Page 64 of Liquids

He leads us through the crowd and up toward the back, and then I notice there are stands with some raised seating farther back. Jake ushers us into an unoccupied row.

“You have to keep out of this,” he rumbles. “Rig wants to know you’re here, but you need to stay safe, you understand me? Just lay low: Don’t move from here, don’t talk to anyone.”

Looking at all the people, I totally get him. It’s full of rough-looking guys, some with shaved heads and a lot of tattoos. People you wouldn’t want to meet on the street late at night, who’d probably knife you without blinking.

“This is intense,” I say, waving my hand around. It’s nothing like a crazy fight in the grass on the hill near Nowheresville.

“It kind of is and isn’t. It’s run properly, because big money is riding on it. See those guys in the suits?” Jake asks, and I realize there are men with earpieces and matching dark-blue suits wandering through the crowd, occasionally stopping to talk to someone. “They’re taking floor bets and making sure people behave themselves.”

“Do people have weapons?”

Jake shakes his head. “The suits have them, but everyone else is thoroughly searched before they come in; they have to go through a metal detector. It’s a sharp operation, tightly controlled. None of this was here two hours ago.”

“What do you mean?”

“No ring. No stands. It’ll be gone an hour after the fight. Cops are paid off.” He raises his chin. “I need to get back to Rig.” He pats my shoulder and heads off down the steps, weaving in among the crowd and disappearing behind a curtain at the far side.

For once, the old ladies are quiet.

“This reminds me of the things my dad told me about World War II,” Agnes says. “Cockfights, dog racing. He said men needed somewhere to blow off steam.”

A man pulls himself up on the other side of the cage and opens the door, stepping into the ring.

“Gentlemen!” he says, and the room suddenly quiets.

“As you know, we have an action-packed and long-anticipated agenda tonight. Suffice to say, you are going to witness some of the best fighting on the circuit! First up, we have the Beast, three-time MMA champion, against Joe Alagulio, the Alligator—up-and-coming star of the rags-to-riches program at the Chicago Gyms and Stadiums, under the management of our very own Edward O’Rourke!

A cheer goes up.

“The fight will start in ten minutes. Place your last bets, gentlemen. Fill your flasks! The fun is about to begin!”

June rubs her hands together. “This is going to be amazing.”

Agnes pulls a flask out of her pocket. “What’s that?” I say.

“The thermos had tea in it. This is for the hooch.”

“The hooch?”

Marni smirks at me.

“They make their own, by all accounts,” Marge says, leaning across Agnes. She makes a head-exploding motion with her hands. Oh, Jesus, drunk little old ladies, that’s all I need. Are they even allowed alcohol on their meds? I run through it in my mind. How do they know all this stuff?

“I want to try it,” Agnes says, clearly seeing my expression.

June pats my hand. “Don’t you worry, we’ll be sensible.”

“Marge has already tried to shoot someone and rolled in the dirt.” I eye all the stains on her nylon pants and matching zip-up jacket.

“Pfft,” Marge says. “It’ll wash out.”

Most of the time, these ladies find it hard to shuffle to the bathroom. God knows how they’re going to survive this. Carried along by adrenaline, I suppose.

Marni must read my mind because she says, “Ladies, sit down. I’ll go buy us some hooch.”

She takes Agnes’s flask and pulls another one out of her pocket. I gape at her as she heads off down to the floor. The crowd parts like it’s the Second Coming, except most people wouldn’t be ogling Christ’s ass after he walked past them. I should not have let her go down there. But she finds someone who’s selling the booze from some contraption on their back like they do with beer at fairs, and she returns in five minutes, flasks brimming with some liquid. I take a sip and immediately start coughing. Holy shit.

No sooner has she handed the first flask to Marge than a great roar rises from the crowd as loud music starts pumping through the building, and a huge mountain of a man appears from behind the purple velvet curtain. He’s punching his fist in the air, surrounded by an entourage of people. Is this the Beast? He is way bigger than Rig.